


Life Debt

by Trinkisme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-10-30 15:45:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinkisme/pseuds/Trinkisme
Summary: An act of heroism.  A moment of insanity.  A life of indebtedness.  A short story dealing with disability and hurt.  And hope.  And love.  Dramione.





	1. Chapter 1

_I'm dedicating this story to **Annamonk**. A more loving and giving soul doesn't exist. Happy Birthday, Sister Mine._

Funny how one second of nothing could change  _everything._

Draco never could figure out what possessed him to behave the way he had on that fateful day. He wasn't normally impulsive. Yet his actions had not been premeditated, either. He had felt neither hot nor cold. Apparently, just right was the temperature needed to perform heroic acts of bravery.

For that was what he'd been. Brave. Heroic.

_And a bleeding fool._

In a single moment of uncharacteristic selflessness, Draco canceled out everything he'd ever done in his life. With one act, he altered the course of his future.

And the course of hers.

It had been during the battle of Hogwarts, in the heat of combat. A miracle had already occured. Harry Potter had somehow beaten death a second time and was thick in the fray, fighting through death eaters in his attempt to reach the most evil wizard of all time and finish his business with him. Around the grounds were lifeless bodies, sprinkled across the courtyard much like raisins atop a bowl of oatmeal. Dancing around the corpses, Order members were busy, fighting valiantly to bring to an end the reign of terror. Draco watched with bated breath as Molly Weasley stepped up to take on his demonic aunt. Their duel was fierce and deadly; Draco had never imagined the matronly witch having such speed and skill. When he saw her deliver the final blow on Bellatrix, Draco sighed with relief, but his comfort was short-lived. Something to the side drew his attention. His own father was dueling Hermione Granger. Draco groaned. He knew the feisty witch was no match against the more experienced wizard. Lucius was easily gaining ground on the muggleborn. Draco had practised enough with the elder Malfoy to know his moves, and thereby, his next action. He knew when his father flicked his wrist in a slashing fashion, he'd hexed the witch with an extremely powerful curse.

Without stopping to think of the consequences, Draco shoved Granger aside right before the spell reached her.

And was hit instead.

The pain of a thousand crucios struck him with the force of a runaway Knight Bus. So overwhelming was the agony, it overwhelmed his magic. His brain could not process the volume of screams coming from his nervous system. It began to shut down.

The last thing Draco saw before the curtain of night overtook him was the look of utter despair on his father's face.

 _So. That's it for me,_  was his final thought. Just as well. His life had been doomed anyway. He knew better than to hope.

No bright future awaited anyone branded with darkness.

For a time, it looked like he might be right. Death and life fought over his body, both claiming ownership. Destruction seemed the stronger of the two. It closed in to assert its victory.

But Providence had other ideas.

* * *

Following the battle, Draco remained unchanged for the next two weeks, drifting along on a sea of magical pain spells and muggle morphine. Occasionally he roused to a limited awareness. During that time, his senses played peek-a-boo with his consciousness. The first sense that broke through to his mind was hearing. A few days after he was hit, Draco surfaced and slowly registered the sound of sniffing and whispers coming from somewhere close by.

"How  _could_  you?" a familiar voice accused. A normally soft voice filled with the thick sound of tears and heartbreak.

"How the devil was I to know he would do that?" responded the equally tortured sound of the male voice belonging to his father, Lucius.

His father. His childhood hero. His constant North star…...his mentor and inspiration.

His attacker.

_The reason why I'm in…..well, whatever shape I'm in._

Draco couldn't remember a time his father had ever sounded so defeated before, even including the past year when the Dark Lord stripped the elder Malfoy of his wand, home, and pride.

His mother, however, cared little for her husband's misfortunes, brought on by his own poor choices. All her concern was focused on her son.

"But  _why_? She was just a girl…..a classmate of Draco's. She was no threat to you." Draco heard his mother release a tiny whimper, sounding much like a hurt puppy. "You  _knew_  what that spell would do."

"Cissa…..I swear on my wand, I never imagined …." Lucius' voice faded out as oblivion rose up to take Draco hostage.

The next time he awakened, the sense of touch joined his hearing in being responsive. Someone was gently holding his hand while also rubbing it softly. It felt nice.

"Ugh, `Mione….. How can you stand that?

"Stand what?  
"Touching the filthy ferret."

The voice was familiar but Draco couldn't recall why. He desperately tried to get his sluggish mind to cooperate; he knew he had heard it before. Something about it brought to mind memories of the great hall at Hogwarts, food…..and freckles. Then it came to him. The person holding his hand was Granger. And the person who called him a ferret was…. _Weaselbee._ Of course. But why was the ginger menace visiting him? Why was  _she?_ He tried to pull his hand out of her grasp, but there seemed to be a disconnect between his brain and his muscles. He tried to open his eyes; the same thing happened. Nothing. It dawned on Draco that he was essentially paralyzed. His body wasn't responding to any mental command. He felt a growing panic steal over him. Within his own body, he was trapped. A prisoner.

Feeling a sudden helpless terror, he willed himself to move. A pitiful moan filled the room. Draco didn't know it had come from him and had been his response to the pain incurred in his attempt at movement.

" _Ohh…_.." Granger's voice quivered with undisguised compassion. "He's hurting. Ron, go fetch the medi-witch."

Ron snorted. "Why should I? He's probably just faking. "

Draco couldn't see it, but he could sense Hermione's hair bristling in fury at her stubborn friend's refusal to cooperate. He heard it when she huffed.

"Ronald!  _Now_!"

In spite of the electrical shocks coursing through him, slicing through his nerves as if they were warm sticks of butter, Draco noticed when the Weasel obeyed. He skulked off stomping, his heavy-sounding footsteps showing his rebelliousness and blatant disapproval of Hermione's request. Then the door slammed shut.

For the space of a few heartbeats, there was silence. Then a sigh. Granger spoke again.

"He can be such an arse."

A male chuckle followed. Hermione's joined it. A moment later, soft fingertips began to caress Draco's wrist.

"Look at him," she whispered softly. Draco felt the fingertips leave his wrist to comb through his hair. "If he hadn't pushed me away…..," she choked, then gave Draco's cheek a gentle caress. "This would have been  _me_ , Harry."

So it was Potter who had laughed.

"I know. Poor sod," his former enemy spoke commiseratingly.

Draco felt a large hand join the smaller to cradle the crown of his head.

 _Oh, blast_. He'd forgotten the Gryffindor tendency to show affection.  _Potter better not try to hug me._

"I really do feel bad for him. He has to be in agony."

"Do….do you think he realized what spell his father cast?"

"He had to have had. It being his father and all."

 _Not exactly,_ thought Draco _. Just that it was a dark one._

He desperately wished they would speak it. Then at least he would know what he was up against.

"I feel terrible…..I misjudged him….badly."

"We all did. Me, most of all."

So, the entire golden trio had come to check on him. Draco couldn't fathom it. Then a sudden realization hit him. The Boy Who Lived must have defeated the Dark Lord.

_Could it really be possible?_

Draco had seen so much carnage. So much death. So much evil, he was scared to hope.

 _This must be a dream_ , he finally concluded. A few moments later, it was fact. Draco didn't hear Ron returning with the nurse; he didn't know she had cast a spell to put him temporarily out of his misery. All he knew was that he had once more succumbed to the pull of sleep and was now adrift in a dream filled with nonsensical images of him dressed in white and Granger in green. In the background, Potter was singing while he and the muggleborn waltzed in a ballroom filled with red-headed waiters throwing champagne on anyone who came close to them.

* * *

When he was finally able to open his eyes, Draco was by himself. Blearily looking around, he noticed the white walls. The sterile environment.

St. Mungo's, then.

He tried to stretch and immediately regretted it. A stifled scream slipped past his lips. The pain was incredible. His heart began to race. Unknown to him, the instruments taped to his body alerted the staff to his distress. Only a few moments passed before a healer and a medi-witch barged into his room.

Draco stared at them pleadingly, his eyes filled with anguish. "What's wrong with me?" he croaked, his voice raspy from disuse.

The mediwitch ignored him, being too intent on retrieving the correct vials of potion stored in the cabinet beside the bed, but the healer, an older wizard with a kind, weathered face, answered, "You are recovering from the effects of a curse, the likes we haven't seen in over a century. Stay still….we have something for your discomfort."

Draco grunted; staying still was something he would surely do, as the slightest movement was causing him agony.

The nurse turned around, her hands full of vials gleaming with a substance that reminded Draco of moonstones and white opals. The sheen of the liquid was luminescent and otherworldly.

"Here you go," she said in an attempt at a motherly voice, but when she tried to raise Draco a bit so he could take the medicine, he moaned, the pain acute.

"Hazel, let me," the healer instructed. Taking the potion from her, he waved his wand to raise the head of the bed a few degrees. Then he tilted the vial to Draco's lips. The weakened blonde struggled to swallow the bitter drops, but the healer gently massaging his throat helped him finish the task.

To Draco, the fluid tasted like a cross between a milk punch and something tingling; as if a bolt of lightning had been condensed into liquid form. It was soothing and refreshing and wild. The hairs on his body rose; Draco felt goosebumps all over. The pain began to recede. He sighed, a feeling of relaxation overtaking him. "Tha wuz…...  _greaat_ ," he slurred.

"And that's why it's a controlled substance," the healer muttered. The medi-witch grinned.

"Witch Hazel, we might need to put a  _seek-me-not_  charm on those potions. Mr. Malfoy will have enough to overcome without adding an addiction to the list."

"Yes, Healer Robbins."

The older man sighed, his large frame heaving slightly. His kind heart was weighed down by the knowledge of what his newest patient was facing. A future filled with fevers. Weakness. Pain.

_So young to be so disadvantaged._

Life wasn't fair. Young lads such as Mr. Malfoy being forced to fight in wars others created. Older men who had nothing better to do than to sacrifice their young in the flames of their overweening pride.

_Such senseless, needless misery._

It made Robbins mad. What was worse, was the careless regard in reintroducing a curse like the one Draco was suffering from….the older healer shuddered.

It recalled to him the ancient wars. A more primitive time when muggles were attuned to the elements; a time when they knew the secrets of the earth and could call forth its powers for life…...and for death. The wizarding world was not as advantaged then. The playing ground was more even. One muggle proved that quite well.

_Ramm's Revenge._

The curse supposedly created by the fabled muggle king in retribution against the infamous sorceress, Ardith the Attercoppe, a hex later copied and made more lethal by wizards down through the ages.

Muggles had different names for Draco's condition; myopathy, neuromuscular disease, Parkinson's, Multiple Sclerosis….many more. Some worse than others, some with additional symptoms, but for Mr. Malfoy, the prognosis would be the same. He would be afflicted. Disabled. A cripple.

 _What's that strange-sounding word the muggles use?_ Healer Robbins paused to recollect.

Oh, yes. He remembered it now.

Handicapped.

* * *

**AN:**  For those of you who have read my story,  _The Summer Queen_ , you will recognize the character of Healer Robbins.

I also indulged in a bit of fun with the name of the medi-witch. Witch Hazel is a cartoon character from the Bugs Bunny / Looney Tunes universe. I just couldn't resist!

As with so many other of my stories, this will be a short one, with snack-size chapters. The struggles Draco experiences will come from real-life situations. There will be sorrow and angst, but also humor. And love.


	2. Chapter 2

_Two months later_

Draco huffed, irritated with himself. His former fluid gait had been reduced to an unsteady shuffle. He held on to the walker as he made his way to the kitchen. The metal device was a strange muggle contraption, but it did help him keep his balance. Still, he chafed at the necessity of having to use it, although he much preferred it to the wheelchair he'd had at the hospital.

 _I look like a drunken giant,_ he groused to himself.  _If I were any slower, I'd be a snail._

Healer Robbins said he would have to be patient. He assured Draco he had made great progress since he was admitted to St. Mungo's mostly dead. But it was hard. Tasks that had taken no time to perform before were now arduous and difficult. Despite what his mother said, not  _everything_  could be done with magic. Still, he managed. Some days were better than others. But Granger told him living in time meant all seasons had their end. Even those of trial. Right now, he was holding on to that.

Once in the kitchen, he went about preparing a cup of tea. He'd gone for a while without using sugar in it, even though he liked his drink hot and sweet. But he'd had too many accidents spilling it, and cleaning up the mess afterward was a pain. His hands often trembled; Healer Robbins said it was in response to the fevers. Whenever his temperature spiked, Draco's couldn't hold on to anything. Even the smallest spoon would be dropped with a crash, sugar scattering everywhere.

But then Granger stepped in.

 _Of course she did, the nosy little crusader_ , Draco thought fondly.

When she noticed he'd been going without, she'd asked him about it. As he explained his situation, her lips pursed in a tight frown. The next day, she'd brought him a bear-shaped container filled with honey. Said it was a squeeze bottle and showed him how to use it. She spelled it to respond to even the weakest press. Then the interfering little swot taught him how to make a perfect cup of tea by adding honey and a lemon slice. He liked it so well, he no longer missed the milk and sugar he used to demand.

Draco sighed and took another sip.

 _Granger_. His pesky new friend.

Looking around the kitchen of his new home, he could see her influence everywhere. In the purple flower arrangement on his table; in the strange muggle appliances she insisted on purchasing to help him live more independently….he snorted, remembering her chirpy, bright voice the day she brought them to his house.

"Muggle magic here to save the day!"

At least she believed in him. She believed he could have a normal life.

Not everyone did.

He'd moved to the family's lakeside cottage soon after being dismissed from St. Mungo's. The Manor, complete with long hallways, massive staircases and overbearing parents, was no place for someone physically disabled to live.

Lucius, under the sentence of a lengthy house arrest and magical suppression, had assigned the elves to help in his son's care. But Draco didn't want to be coddled, not that his father listened to his protests. Wanting to escape from the guilt of being the cause of his son's condition, Lucius went too far in the other direction. He became suffocating. Narcissa was little better. Always teary-eyed, always apologetic, neither she nor her husband understood that what their son wanted was normalcy. What Draco  _needed_  was for them to act naturally, even if natural for them was less than ideal. But they ignored his pleas.

After several days of being babied and being made to feel utterly useless, he told his parents he was moving out to live at the cottage on the other side of the grove, near the lake where he used to fish as a lad.

He wasn't surprised when his mother kicked up a fuss.

"Don't be ridiculous," she'd scoffed. "That's an impossibility. Why, you're not…" her words trailed off when she realized what she'd almost said. Putting her fingers to her mouth, she looked at him guiltily.

Draco's face turned stony and cold.

"I'm not what, Mother?" he asked. "Strong enough? Able enough?  _Good enough_?

Removing her hand from her face, she gave him a withering look. "There's no need to mock my concern, Draco."

" _Concern_? Is that what you're calling it?"

"Draco! I will not tolerate…"

He butted in. "You forget. I  _know_ you, Mother. I can tell what you're thinking…..you and Father both. I can see it every time you look at me. I hear it in the tone of your voice. I'm the family's new, dirty little secret."

"Now, you know that's not tru…."

"Isn't it?" he interrupted. "Then tell me, Mother…..why are squib children not included in Pureblood family portraits?"

"Draco, that's not…."

"Why are disabled children passed by in receiving an inheritance?"

"Well….."

"I guess I should be glad I'm an only child or I'd be a pauper now."

"Draco,  _please!"_ "

Ignoring her pleas, he pushed further. "Mother, have you been busy arranging a match for me?"

Narcissa didn't answer.

Lifting his brows, Draco mocked, "No? Why not?"

Nothing.

"Could it be because you're  _ashamed_  of me? Because you know none of the other families will accept me now, no matter how many galleons Father promises them?"

Narcissa matched his stare for a few beats of the heart; then her eyes shifted, unable to keep his honest gaze.

When Draco saw it, his last faint hope shriveled and died. He knew pureblood ideology. He'd been raised on it. Anything less than perfect was beneath them. Whether it was muggleborns or squibs…..or…

 _disabled sons who were no longer a source of pride._  His face began to crumple, but hastily stomping down his emotions, he clenched his jaw and affected indifference.

"That's what your real concern is. That my condition has further sullied our already tarnished name; that we'll eventually lose our place in society."

"Darling…I know you don't mean all this. You're tired and overwrought. You need to rest."

"Oh, please. You can't keep me in bed forever. A pity, I know. I would be easier to hide away if I was bedridden.

"Draco…...dove,  _listen…_.."

With that one word, Draco felt his heart crack into a million pieces. How many times had his mother called him her dove? When he'd taken his first steps; ridden his first broom; when he'd gotten his Hogwarts letter; made the Slytherin quidditch team; when he'd been made prefect. Always when he'd shown promise or received an honor. That she'd said it now was horribly, painfully ironic.

"Why did you call me that?" he asked, his voice low and ominous, though Narcissa didn't pick up on it.

She paused; then sighed. "Because you'll always be my son," she began, combing back his hair with her fingers, "even if you're no longer…."

That small negative word was a flame to Draco's combustible cauldron. He exploded.

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT I NO LONGER AM!"

Narcissa gasped, shocked at his outburst.

"I know,  _okay_?" he raged. "I'm lame….I'm a cripple…..my body no longer works...but I'M STILL  _ME_!" he shouted, startling his mother into silence. "In here, Mum!" he thumped his chest angrily, "I'm no different. Yet, you and Father treat me as if I am. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know what that does to  _me_?"

Draco paused to breathe, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

Two pairs of grey eyes stared at the other. Both filled with pain. And tears.

"Mum…. _please_ ," he begged. "I know better than to ask it of Father, but can't  _you_  understand?"

"I'm …...I'm trying to, Son."

 _Trying_  to? Draco mentally sputtered, incredulous. What kind of answer was that? It wasn't one, that's what. Especially from one's mother. Draco decided he'd had enough. This was too painful to continue.

"Forget it. I'll leave as soon as I can. Don't try to stop me. It will be better this way….for all of us."

He watched as his mother burst into tears. "I'm ….I'm sorry….. _so_  sorry this ever happened….."

Draco sighed. Bowing his head in defeat, he whispered, "So am I."

Narcissa tried one last time. "Maybe we could…"

But Draco cut her off. "Just let me go."

So they did. The next morning, his father had the elves move his things to the quaint stone cottage near the border of their property. They stayed to clean the inside; when they were done, Cookie, the oldest elf, started a fire to scare away the chill. Even though it was summer, the stone walls made the air inside the house feel cool and damp. Afterward, the old elf approached Draco, reclining on the sofa.

"Master Draco….The young Miss you have spoken of…...she who visited Master at the hospital…..she is the same as was brought to the manor? The one with the nasty word on her arm?"

Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know why Cookie was bringing that up. He tried everyday to forget it. "Yes, Cookie. She's one and the same."

Cookie released a big sigh and smiled up at Draco. "Cookie is very happy to hear it, Sir. Very happy indeed."

"Why?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

The elf's eyes grew large and knowing. "Because, Sir…..young Miss  _knows_  suffering. She was stronger than it. She will be helping young Master to do the same."

* * *

Once he got use to being there, Draco had to admit his new home had a charm that had been entirely lacking at the Manor. The cottage, free of the dark, toxic energy that filled his childhood home, was calm...peaceful. Situated on the banks of the large lake, it allowed Draco to hear the soft, soothing sound of the water. It was that sound, nature's own lullaby, that put Draco to sleep at night.

The quaint dwelling had a thatched roof, neatly trimmed, and was graced on the sides by lush green ivy on the south wall and climbing roses on its north side. The irritating squawks of his father's peacocks were heard no more; they'd been replaced by the sweet song of the woodlarks nesting at the foot of the rowan tree that stood between the cottage and the lake. Draco loved that tree; he fondly remembered climbing it with Theo Nott when they'd been young boys. Draco's grandmother had planted it as an additional source of protection from malevolent spirits as the wards were weakest near the water. More than once Draco wondered if that was why it was so peaceful there; if the tree his grandmother planted was what kept Voldemort's dark magic from infiltrating that area.

The first time Granger visited him there, she remarked how much she adored his new home. She thought it far superior to the Manor.

 _Of course she would think that_.

His childhood home could never be anything for her except a reminder of the torture she endured within its walls. Add to that, the death eater who tried to attack her still lived there.

But she never mentioned his father to him. Never mentioned that returning to Malfoy grounds made her uneasy. What she did mention was that she'd gotten him a surprise; a house-warming gift for his new home. But that was who she was, he'd discovered.

Thoughtful. Always giving.

It had started at the hospital. Hermione began to regularly check up on him after he'd been cleared to have unlimited visits at St. Mungo's. When she would come, she would always bring something with her; a game of wizarding chess or exploding snap, or a bag of goodies from Honeydukes. Several times, she brought a muggle toy called Rock 'em, Sock 'em Robots. Apparently, the point of the game was to direct the boxing of one's robot against its opponent until one person scored a knockout punch. Draco told her it was the silliest and most useless thing he'd ever seen, but in secret he enjoyed the cathartic feeling the toy provided. Which, knowing Granger, was probably the reason she brought it.

Hermione discovered Draco loved muggle music. Specifically, modern piano compositions. When she told him she'd taken piano lessons for years, he asked her if she knew any pieces by Béla Bartók. She gave him a teasing smile and said he'd have to find out. Then she commandeered a wheelchair and wheeled him to the lobby of the hospital where a baby grand stood near the admissions desk. She asked the wizard there, one employed by St. Mungo's to provide music to visitors, if she could play a song for a patient. He took one look at Draco and nodded. Telling her to take her time, he said he would take an early lunch. As soon as he left, she positioned Draco so he would be able to see her play. Then her nimble fingers took off. She played the entire Suite for Piano to her audience of one. Draco didn't interrupt; he watched her play the deceptively difficult piece with a lightness and ease that made his heart clench strangely. When she finished, she turned to look at him, expecting a smirk and teasing comment or critique. She was shocked to find tears on his face. Draco didn't bother wiping them away; he merely nodded and mouthed, "Thank you."

On her visits to the hospital, she usually came alone, but a few times Potter came with her. Weasley never did. Conversations were short and stilted when Harry was present, even though the Boy Wonder was uncommonly kind to Draco, but when Hermione was by herself, there was no end to the topics they would discuss, one after another until the hours sped by and shadows would lengthen against the charmed windows. Draco began to anticipate her coming; he found himself counting the hours before he would see her again. He could better ignore his pain when Granger was around; her stimulating conversation was the perfect distraction. She was well-versed on nearly every topic except quidditch, and her banter was always witty.

Recalling those awful early days, he had to admit it was her steady voice reading his favorite books that had been all that kept him from giving up.

Back then, he'd been too drugged and out of it to question why she was his most faithful visitor; he was just glad she came. Later, when he was better, he attributed her attentiveness to survivor's guilt.

It took a careless remark Draco overheard to put two and two together as to the real reason behind Hermione's faithful concern.

It happened one evening about a week before he was discharged.

The witch going off duty remarked to the nurse replacing her, "It's such a shame about patient Malfoy, isn't it? Such a handsome young man. Now I suppose there's no chance for him to marry. And I heard he's an only son, too. It's like the Fates put a judgement on that family."

The other medi-witch tried to hush the first one. "Constance, shh. His door's not closed. He might hear you."

"No, he won't. I just gave him his potions. They work fast."

"Are you sure?"

The other witch laughed. "I'm sure. I could put a dancing veela in there, and he wouldn't notice."

Draco heard both nurses chuckling.  _Stupid witch_ , he thought. He wasn't  _that_  medicated.

"Well, I heard something the other day about your young patient."

"If you're going to mention his dark mark, don't bother. I've seen it."

"Not that." The medi-witch paused. In a lower voice, she asked, "Did you know he was hurt by saving Hermione Granger?"

"Are we talking about  _the_  Hermione Granger? Best friend of Harry Potter?"

"Right. The very one. He took a curse meant for her."

The other witch gasped. "Merlin. I didn't know. If that's so…."

Both medi-witches fell silent. Draco tried desperately to fight against the effects of the potions to hear what else they would say. Finally, he heard a voice again.

"You know how that works. She owes him her life in return."

"Do….do you think they know?"

"Doesn't matter, does it? The magic of his action has already been cast. It can't be called back. It is one of the most binding of powers."

Draco sucked in a breath. Funny how he'd never considered it before, but now it was staring him in the face. He wondered if Granger knew or if she was unconsciously being influenced by the deep magic.

An eye for an eye. One life in exchange for another. The cosmic scales demanded balance. Intentional or not, he'd risked everything to save Hermione.

She now owed him a life debt.

* * *

 **AN** : Did anyone catch my nod to  _The Princess Bride_  with the "mostly dead" reference? If you did, Miracle Max is proud of you! LOL

No direct interaction between Draco and Hermione in this chapter. Just Draco's memories. But the next chapter will make up for it in a big way. *hint-hint*

The Catholic hospital where I live has a baby grand piano in the lobby. Such a nice feature, I think.


	3. Chapter 3

By summer's end, Draco and Hermione were the closest of friends. They did everything together. They cooked together, read books together, made potions together, even fished and swam together. If Draco couldn't do a certain activity, Hermione would figure out a way to make it work, amazing him with her muggle ingenuity.

She found herself spending all her free time at the cottage. Its serenity, as well as the companionship of the wizard who was now so dear to her heart, worked a magic that made the past year with its horrors feel like a distant dream.

The cottage saw other visitors, too. Harry was a frequent guest. The Boy Who Lived seemed determined to patch up the bad blood that had always existed between him and Draco. Taking a leaf from Hermione's book, he started the change by bearing gifts. His first offering was to install railings and grab bars inside the cottage for Draco to have on his bad days. The injured youth hated the necessity of the supports but was profoundly touched by Harry's thoughtfulness. Another time, Harry came with his broom and took Draco riding. That ride turned out to be a long one; every time Harry tried to land, Draco begged for a few minutes more. He'd forgotten what it felt like to feel weightless and free, soaring through the air while the wind buffeted his body. Harry understood and showed that he did on his next visit by presenting Draco with a specially made broom. The former Slytherin seeker stared at the gift as if unable to believe what he was seeing while Hermione stood beside him, hands on her hips in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Molly Weasley.

"Harry James Potter, are you mad? Do you want him to get hurt?"

"Calm down, 'Mione. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

She snorted, giving Harry his answer, but Draco slowly stood to his feet. Shuffling over to where Harry was standing, he said, "Thank you, Mate," the tone of his voice giving proof of the depth of his gratitude.

Surprising no one, Harry returned the thanks with a man hug, saying, "It comes with a sticking charm on the seat and handle and also a detectable releasing spell once you land."

Draco gave him a clumsy hug back. "I...I don't know what to say….."

"Say you'll go riding with me now. That is, if your warden will release you," Harry teased, sticking his tongue out at Hermione.

Rolling her eyes, she pretended annoyance, but secretly was touched by Harry's generosity, so much like his godfather's. "Well then, go on, you two. Harry, you better bring him back in one piece. And Draco….can you do something for me while you're out?"

Draco looked over at her, surprised. Hermione rarely asked him for anything. "Yes?"

"Make Harry eat your dust."

Both wizards laughed as Harry helped Draco out the door.

* * *

Hermione's nineteenth birthday turned out to be a turning point in her and Draco's relationship. The emotions that had been growing between them all summer finally found voice.

It started when Hermione decided to do something special for her birthday. Knowing Draco's fondness for sweets (even by Gryffindor standards, he was an absolute  _fiend_  for them), she wanted to try her hand at making cauldron cakes. Molly Weasley somehow caught wind of Hermione's plan and graciously offered to help. The day before Hermione's birthday found the two witches busy in the Weasley kitchen. While they mixed the batter, Hermione shared with Molly what she'd been up to that summer, most of it being about Draco and the struggles he'd had. Molly's mixing grew slower and slower as she listened to the tale of his heroism and subsequent disability; but when Hermione got to the part about how he'd been treated by his parents, Molly saw red. So much so, the cake batter began to bubble dangerously. It was all Hermione could do to keep the dear woman from going over there to mother and fuss over the young wizard. But Hermione knew Draco wouldn't wish it; so instead, the Weasley matriarch relieved her feelings by sending a howler apiece to Lucius and Narcissa.

When Hermione flooed to the cottage the next day, cakes in hand, for the luncheon of bangers and mash Draco had managed to make for her, she told him what Molly had done. He immediately choked on his meal; Hermione had to pat his back several times before he could breathe again. Afterward, they both laughed until their sides hurt.

"Blast …..I wish I could have been there to see it. I know it's your birthday, but honestly, that feels like a gift for  _me_."

Hermione grinned impishly. "More than my cauldron cakes?"

"Haven't had one, so I can't say. You're hoarding them over there."

"So sorry, my Prince," she wisecracked. Snapping her fingers, she levitated the cakes to sit in front of Draco. "Better now?"

"I'll answer that after I've tasted them."

As he reached for a cake, Hermione noticed his hands were trembling. Badly.

"Draco….when did that start?" she asked.

"I dunno…..maybe ten minutes ago."

Hermione worriedly bit her bottom lip as he attempted to eat the dessert. Draco was making a mess of the cake and himself. After watching him struggle through another bite, her tender heart intervened. Reaching over, she offered what was left of the sweet. "Here you go, love."

Draco glanced up at the endearment, but Hermione seemed unaware of her slip. Seeing that his bangs were in his eyes again, she pushed them back on his forehead. Then she frowned.

"You're burning up."

He shrugged, unconcerned. It wasn't like it was the first time his fever had spiked.

"I'm more worried about being filthy," he said as he took a look at himself. He had cake  _everywhere._  "I'm getting a quick shower. You'll stay, won't you?"

"Of course I will. But hold on…...before you go, take your potion. I'll clean all this up while you wash."

Hermione held the vial so Draco could swallow the bitter liquid without spilling any. She felt guilty as she watched him make his way to his bedroom, struggling against the tremors overtaking his body.

Right before he went in, he turned back to look at her. In spite of his shaking, he managed to wink. "By the way…..good cake, Granger."

Once he closed the door, her mental chastisements started.  _I am so selfish. I should have noticed he had gotten worse._  But she'd been having such a good time with him. She sighed. She knew in her heart she needed to be careful. Draco was still so vulnerable.

It would be so easy to love him. And easier still to break him.

_He needs a friend, Hermione. Not a girlfriend. Not someone who would further complicate his already mucked-up life. Remember that and put his needs first._

Rising from her chair, Hermione put away her thoughts and began to clean up the kitchen. She first thing she did was to levitate the remaining food to put inside the small refrigerator she'd purchased for Draco. Then she spelled a soapy washcloth to clean the table while at the same time spelling the broom to sweep up all the crumbs off the floor.

As soon as she was through putting the dirty dishes to soak, she heard a loud thump. A sharp cry followed it.

Hermione panicked.

Leaving the broom still sweeping, she rushed to Draco's bedroom, her heart pounding, afraid of what she might find. Opening the bathroom door, she found her friend sprawled on the wet shower floor, naked and grimacing in pain.

"Oh,  _Draco_ ," she gasped, seeing a large and angry-looking gash begin to turn purple on his forehead. Checking the rest of him, she found other bruises beginning to form. Hermione tried not to stare at his manhood, choosing instead to accio the fluffy bath towel hanging on the wall. Grabbing it, she covered his lap to give him a bit of his dignity back.

"I don't know why you're bothering," he muttered, too ashamed to look her in the eye. "Can't even take a bloody shower by myself. You should let me drown."

"I will do no such thing," she countered as she reached for his wand near the sink. She'd used it before and was surprised at how compliant it was to her magic. Aiming it now at Draco's head, she began to heal the ugly cut.

"What happened?" she ventured to ask.

"My hands started shaking…..even more than before. I...I couldn't hold on to the soap. It dropped. When I tried to pick it up, I somehow slipped on the blasted thing."

If it had been Ron telling the story, Hermione would have laughed herself silly, but Draco was different. She nodded, making a sympathetic sound while casting the healing spellwork.

Once done with his forehead, she went on to treat the other bruises. He stayed still as she concentrated on her task. When she was through, he surprised her by lifting his hand and softly tracing her cheek with his fingertips.

"So soft," he murmured.

Hermione instinctively leaned into his touch and then blushed after realizing what she'd done. Draco saw and chuckled. "Me touching your cheek embarrasses you? How do you think I feel? You just saw it all."

That made her cheeks turn an even brighter crimson. "I...I promise….I tried not to look…"

Draco's left brow rose in disbelief before he winced in pain at the movement. He gingerly felt for the lump on his head. "Ow…..you must have done a crap job with this, Granger. It still hurts."

"Sorry. Did I miss a place?" Hermione brushed Draco's hair away to get a better look. During the summer, it had grown out a little. In spite of it forever being in his eyes, she privately thought his hair looked better this way. Before, he kept it too short. It had been a severe style, making him appear pinched and angry. The shaggier length he now wore made him look younger and more approachable.

Hermione smiled.  _He's so handsome._

Looking back down, she noticed Draco watching her, his eyes twinkling, the beginnings of a smirk playing about his lips. All during the summer, she'd been a witness to the shifts his moods could take in a blink of an eye. It looked like he was experiencing it again. From the humiliation and pain she'd seen when she found him on the bathroom floor, to now, a teasing grin that bordered on being flirty…..well, she thought,  _I suppose it could be worse. He could be raging mad…..or depressed._  Hermione would take flirty any day. A mischievous face was one of Draco's most adorable looks and one she didn't see enough of.

"I think you like touching me," he quipped playfully.

_I think I do, too._

Out loud, Hermione said, "Just noticing how long your hair has gotten. Would you like a trim?"

"What I'd like is for it to be properly washed. It's been so long since it's felt really clean."

"Draco, I thought Cookie and the others were popping in to help you with things."

Now it was Draco's turn to redden. "They were…..but I hated it. Mother and Father couldn't leave things alone. They kept ordering the elves to do more and more."

She heard him mumble under his breath, " _bloody control freaks_."

Hermione's heart began to ache for her friend. Didn't his parents know their actions were hurting him?

As if in answer to her thoughts, Draco added, "They don't understand. Just because my body is broken doesn't mean my mind is. But you can't tell them that."

On the contrary, Hermione thought there were quite a few things she could tell the Malfoys, but she didn't voice them; she knew if she started, she would say too much. Instead, she began to stroke his shoulder. It had always soothed him before in the hospital.

Draco relaxed into her touch. "Sorry. I know my parents make you uncomfortable. Forgive me for mentioning them."

"Draco, you can say anything you want to me. Anytime."  _And they don't make me uncomfortable; they make me want to hex them._

Hermione's heart ached for the blonde while feeling a white hot anger at Lucius and Narcissa.

They didn't deserve him.

"It's just…...whenever I give them an inch, they try to take the whole bleeding mile. I finally ordered the elves not to come back unless I called for them."

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, the depth of her empathy obvious in the tone of her voice. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Well, actually…..do…..do you mind helping me?"

"Help you with what?"

"Wash my hair?" he explained, all the while expecting her to refuse.

Hermione gulped. "I…..yes….I mean alright. I don't mind helping….if you're sure you want me to."

Draco swallowed and slowly nodded. Hermione gazed nervously into his eyes and gave him a quick nod back. Moving behind him, she braced her back against the wall; the wet floor was slippery; it wouldn't do for both of them to take a tumble. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled Draco up to where he could reach the counter. Together, they got him to a standing position. In the process, the towel fell to the floor, but there was nothing for it now. Draco needed her help; modesty would just have to wait.

"Lean on me," Hermione instructed while wrapping one arm around his waist. Together, they hobbled to the shower, where Hermione adjusted the water to a warmer temperature.

"Don't boil me, Witch."

"Just trying to get it warm enough for a proper cleaning. You did say you wanted that, right?"

Once again, Draco nodded.

"Right, then."

Letting Draco go, she first made sure he was secure, his weight against the shower wall, his hands resting on top of the grab bar Harry had put in. Then she reached for the bottle on the shelf. Popping the top, the fragrance she'd always associated with Draco filled the steamy air. It was a spicy, lemon-basil smell that was wonderfully appealing; it reminded Hermione of the summer she went with her parents to Tuscany and of the aroma coming from the lemon groves under the warm Italian sky. Squeezing out a large dollop of what had to be outrageously expensive shampoo, she began to lather Draco's hair. He bent his head down, trying to help, until she told him not to.

"You'll get soap in your eyes," she warned.

Acquiescing, he leaned his head back to rest against the tiles. It made it harder for Hermione to reach the back of his head, so she had to get closer. And closer still. She was now acutely aware of Draco's naked body, her soaked dress the only barrier between them. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be noticing anything but the bliss of getting clean. His grunts and moans of appreciation were not helping Hermione concentrate, but she eventually got the job done. She rinsed his hair and was about to turn the water off when he said, "What about the rest of me?"

"Er…..what about it?"

Draco let go of the bar to put a hand to his chest. "I…..I'm tired of relying on  _scourgify_. I want to feel clean again."

Hermione squeaked. " _Everywhere_?"

Once more, he nodded, apology battling with need in his eyes. "Help me.  _Please,_  Hermione."

It was the first time he'd ever said her given name. And he'd done it in a moment of humility, acknowledging his inabilities by asking for her help. Hermione recognized the level of respect he had just shown. Draco trusted her, more than the house elves who helped raise him. More than his own flesh and blood. Her heart squeezed painfully. She actually felt tears beginning to form in her eyes, not that he would be able to tell in all the wet.

"Okay."

Grabbing the washcloth, she reached down for the soap and started to lather his chest. Draco closed his eyes; whether to more fully enjoy the experience or to save her from embarrassment, Hermione couldn't say. After his chest was clean, she moved to his shoulders. She loved this part of Draco's body. His shoulders and biceps, not too big, not too wiry, were chiseled and cut and perfect. She soaped them up and did the same with his armpits. Draco began to chuckle.

"It tickles," he admitted.

As she moved to the different areas on him, Hermione began to hum, finding a Zen moment in the action of cleaning his body. Hermione felt like an artist, the soap her paint, as she worked on a human canvas. Strangely, it calmed her. That is, until her work brought her below his navel; then she paused. Draco felt her hands still; sighing, he said, "Don't be bothered by that…..I mean, it's not like I'm a real man anymore. It's just another body part."

"But I...I...I've never...I mean, I wouldn't know how….." she stammered, turning beet red.

Draco sighed. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

Huffing, Draco reached out and fumbled for Hermione's hand. Managing to finally grasp it, he put it on his member. "It's not a poisonous snake about to bite you, Granger. It's just my dick."

 _Merlin, why me?_ she groaned inside. She had never felt such embarrassment. Worse still was the way her body was reacting in that moment. It was all she could do not to…

_Stop it, Hermione! Just friends, remember? Pretend you're a medi-witch. They have to do this sort of thing all the time._

She decided the best course of action was to hurry up and get the job done. So she quickly lathered him up, not realizing what she was doing in her hasty attempt to finish. The quick and hard rubbing was unlike the slow and gentle movements she had given the rest of his body. She felt him grow hard in her hand.

"Cripes!" she yelped and dropped him like a red hot coal.

Draco let out a grunt of discomfort when she let go. A moment later, he began to laugh. He got so tickled, he snorted. "You did this so don't blame me."

Her cheeks flamed with mortification. "I'm so sorry! I swear...I wasn't trying….." her eyes could not stop staring at what she'd created. "Could you quit pointing that... _thing_ at me?"

Draco only laughed harder and almost fell down again.

Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't seeing the humor. Her eyes filled with tears; she felt like such a fool.

Draco saw how upset she was getting. "Hey…..aw, come on Granger, don't be upset. I thought it was funny."

She looked at him, her face crumpling in dismay. "What you must think of me now…"

"What? No! It just happens. There's no need….."

"I'll tell you what was no need...you blowing up like a party balloon in my hand."

Draco gave her a long, appraising stare, looking her up and down. "I had a beautiful witch wearing nearly transparent clothing, touching me. How did you think I was going to react?"

Hermione's temper vanished with a poof at Draco's words. Shivers erupting throughout her body replaced it.  _Beautiful witch._

He thought she was beautiful.

She sniffed, staring into his expressive eyes as drops of water fell from his nose. She saw it when those eyes looked down to her lips. She wanted so badly to kiss him, to feel his mouth on hers, but she forced herself to ignore her wants and instead zeroed in on something else. Something Draco had unknowingly revealed. Something he obviously needed to hear.

"Then don't you ever say again you're not a real man. This proves you are."

That statement caught Draco by surprise. He seemed gobsmacked by the simple truth she'd pointed out; a minute later, a tiny smile appeared.

 _Am I?_ he pondered.

His disability had made him think he would never have the chance for a real relationship. That he would never be man enough. What woman would willingly bind herself to a cripple? What woman would want to deal with his special needs for the rest of her life? His eyes rested on Hermione in all her waterlogged glory.

_She's been dealing with them since the beginning._

A tiny voice inside tried to remind him not to take advantage of the magic of the life debt that was surely influencing the witch in front of him, but at that moment Draco could have sworn he was the one being influenced. Influenced ever since he'd saved Hermione's life by her intelligence, her kindness, her innate goodness. Finding out everything he ever wanted was in the lovely girl with the big hair and even bigger heart.

She had become his best friend. His entire world.

Seeing the sudden change in his countenance, Hermione drew a breath, mesmerized by the look in his eyes. She moved closer, pulled by the depth of emotion playing across his face.

"Draco?" she whispered, reverent as a prayer.

"Oh gods, Hermione…...it's been you all along," he whispered before he gave her what she'd been wanting. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with his.

* * *

A/N: Regarding the shower scene, I was aiming for sweet and funny. I hope it didn't come across as crass.

I apologize for any typos, etc. I did proofread, but I'm really tired, and when that's the case, all bets are off. If you see something, please let me know and I'll fix it.


	4. Chapter 4

_From Ch 3_ :

"Oh gods, Hermione…...it's been you all along," he whispered before he gave her what she'd been wanting. Lowering his head, he claimed her lips with his.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

It took an unexpected visitor to bring Draco and Hermione back to their senses. For a time, all they had been able to concentrate on were the sensations overwhelming them both; the gentle exploration of lips and tongue, the pressing of bodies that fit so perfectly together and the moans their caresses produced. Draco's hands were still shaking, though now more from passion. Where this sudden desire had been hiding, he didn't know. Maybe he'd been afraid to acknowledge it, because he hadn't believed it could ever be possible. Maybe it had lain dormant, waiting for the right time to spring forth. All he knew was that he  _wanted_ Hermione. He needed her. Merlin help him, but at that moment, he realized he loved her and probably had for quite some time. He trailed kisses down her neck, finishing with a little nip by her collarbone. A love bite. Maybe it was the rumored veela strain of his ancestors popping up in him now, but he wanted to leave his mark on the witch who had stolen his heart. He pulled her as closely as he could, burying his face in her wet curls that were heavy with her unique fragrance; apples and spices and the crisp, pleasing smell of a cold, autumn morning. Gods, her scent was intoxicating….. she was addictive.

" _Draco,"_  she whimpered when he cupped her rear to press her more tightly to that spot on him that was aching once more for attention. He groaned, perilously close to losing control when he heard the chimes of his floo ring. Hermione heard it too, and stilled. Reluctantly, she pulled back to ask, "Was that…."

Right then, the door to the bathroom opened and in walked none other than Lucius Malfoy, Hermione's nemesis and father to the naked wizard she was groping. Reacting with the quick reflexes she'd honed during the war, Hermione attempted to accio the bath towel to cover Draco, but she was too late. It had become trapped underneath the feet of their uninvited guest.

The older wizard blinked at first, as if unbelieving of what he was seeing; only after hearing a startled "Father!" did the signature Malfoy sneer appear.

"Well, well….isn't this a pretty kettle of fish. Been keeping secrets, Son?"

"What? You just barge into bathrooms? Why are you even here?"

Lucius snorted, his scorn evident. "I assure you I would rather be elsewhere than here in front of this sickening display, but your mother became worried when you ordered the elves away. She wanted me to check on you. Now I see your purpose in dismissing them _._ The fewer witnesses to your indiscretions, the better."

"But we're ….I mean, we weren't…..."

Lucius ignored Draco's sputtering. "Tell me, Son…...is this why you saved her?" he asked, indicating Hermione with a nod of his head. "You could have told me you had the mudblood servicing you. I would have left her alone, and your unfortunate injury would have never occurred."

Hermione bristled, outraged at the very idea. "You think I was…that he was  _paying_  me to….." For once, she was incensed beyond words. Her palms tingled, itching to slap the pompous sneer off his face. She'd been called a mudblood, a swot…..but her integrity had never before been questioned. She thought she'd grown immune to personal attacks, but this hurt on a deeper level. Partially because she knew the former death eater had meant for it to wound. A small part of her felt like crying, but the other, angrier part felt like pulling his perfect, prissy hair out of his misogynistic head.

"You think I'm some kind of whore?" she spit out, her brown eyes snapping.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at Hermione's question. His eyes glittered lavisciously as they slowly traveled down the length of her wet, see-through dress. Then he looked back up and actually had the nerve to wink at her.

"Yes. That's  _exactly_  what I think," he smirked lewdly.

It was hard to say whose face burned brighter, Draco's or Hermione's. Both ready to hurt the man.

Hermione was the first to speak. "I'll have you know I'm a…" Hermione suddenly stopped. She was about to say a virgin, but why should she? It was none of his business.

"I thought we had already established what you are," he sniffed contemptuously. "Certainly not good enough for my son."

Draco had enough. "Hermione is pure, Father. Purer than you or I could ever hope to be."

Lucius curled his upper lip. "Don't misuse the word, Draco. She's filth _."_

That was the final straw.

"Enough," Hermione said, her voice hard as steel. "Get out. Now."

"Why…..you impudent chit," Lucius hissed. "You are on Malfoy property. This is  _my_  home. You dare to order me out of it?"

" _My_  home," Draco corrected, his voice reminding Hermione of how he'd sounded at Hogwarts; haughty and regal. "And I dare. Leave Father, before I call for Cookie to take you back to the Manor."

The look on his father's face darkened. Hermione felt alarmed and remembered that this man had been her enemy only a few short months ago. He'd tried to hurt her. And would have been successful it it hadn't been for Draco.

"We are not through here,  _Son_ ," he spat through clenched teeth. "I expect you to do your duty to your family's name and not sully it."

Hermione watched as Draco matched his father's arrogance. She was impressed. It couldn't have been an easy thing standing in front of all that anger without a shred of clothing on, but one wouldn't have known it by his stance or the expression on his face.

"That's rich coming from you. Because of your choices, our name is in tatters."

"Draco Lucius, I will not have you…"

But Draco was done with the conversation. "Shove off, Old Man." Flicking his wrist, he made his father vanish with a pop.

"Serves him right if my tremors splinch him," he mumbled.

"Where did you send him….back to the manor?"

Draco smirked, a wicked little grin that once again bloomed into that adorable look of mischievousness. "To the northern edge of our property. A good seven miles from the Manor. The way back is uneven and slippery and covered with thorny vines."

Lucius, his magic suppressed, would have to walk the whole way back.

Hermione took one look at Draco's face and began to grin. An unladylike snort followed that quickly turned into loud peals of laughter.

"Oh, Draco," she said as soon as she was able, "I know he's your father…..but he was so….so..."

"Horrible. You can say it. I've known it for a while now."

"I'm sorry, love." She once again snuggled up against his chest.

Draco cupped her cheek with his hand. He noticed that the shaking had finally stopped. "Am I really?" he asked in a soft voice.

Hermione tilted her head up. "Are you really what?"

"Your love."

She shivered from the sudden explosion of butterflies in her stomach.

"Because I think you might be mine," he confessed.

"Perhaps we are each other's," she agreed before he silenced her from any further discussion.

* * *

When Draco woke up the next morning, he had a sinking feeling of déjà vu. The debilitating paralysis he'd experienced at the hospital had returned. He tried to stretch but felt pinned down, a heaviness pressing him into the mattress. He experienced a momentary panic until he sensed movement beside him. It was Hermione, snuggling even closer. It was her body, one leg thrown over his, an arm slung around his waist and her head on his chest that had caused the sensation of numbness.

_Merlin, the heat her body puts out feels wonderful._

Draco had become extremely cold-natured since his injury. He didn't know if it was part of the curse or a side-effect from the potions he had to take. But Hermione was better than a warming charm.

 _My little cuddlebug_ , he thought fondly until a wayward curl of hers began to poke him in the eye. He attempted to move it, but it sprang right back. He tried again. The same thing happened. He tried blowing it away, but all that did was unlodge another strand. Now he had two curls attacking him.

"Love…...Hermione..… _hey_   _Granger,_ " he said with increasing volume.

"Uunghh," she moaned, then turned over. Draco chuckled until he heard her smack her lips and mumble, "More."

His amused expression softened.  _More_. He'd given her more last night. He'd given her everything. And received the same back.

Once they'd admitted their feelings for the other, things had escalated rather quickly. Somehow they made it back to his bedroom, half stumbling while their kisses and touches became clumsy and frantic. Draco struggled to get the soaked dress off his witch, but it seemed determined to fight him by stubbornly clinging to her skin. Hermione watched his frustrated attempts with a growing restlessness. Feeling that patience was no longer a virtue, she vanished her clothes, muttering, "Never liked that dress anyway."

Draco's breath caught once the aggravating garment was gone, and he was able to gaze at the wonder of Hermione's body. She was perfect and delectable and…..too good to be true. That she would offer such a gift to him….a wretched, lame, shattered wizard with a dark past and uncertain future, was beyond his comprehension.

Giving her one last chance to back out, he cupped her face with his hands and asked, "Are you sure you want this?"

She nodded, her eyes filled with such tender trust, Draco was hardly able to look at them. "I've kept myself for this moment. I….I've saved myself for you."

Draco fought hard to keep his tears at bay. When had  _anyone_  ever showed him such devotion? Not trusting his voice, he nodded back, determined he would make her first time one for the books, despite his impediments. This amazing woman deserved no less.

He took his time, being careful to be gentle yet thorough. He attended to her patiently, making sure she was lost in the bliss of pleasure before thinking of his own needs. When he felt she was ready, he entered her in one, slow, fluid moment, remembering to cast two spells; the first, a contraceptive charm and the second, one that would keep her from feeling discomfort. Hermione noticed when his magic filled her.

"What was that?" she asked, still breathless after her high.

"Just a precaution so I won't hurt you, love." The last thing Draco wanted was for her to feel pain on his account.

"Draco….no. Undo the spell," she begged.

"Are you sure?"

She kissed him with a possessive hunger. "Please….I don't want to be numb. I want to feel everything you do."

Acquiescing, he did as she asked and lifted the spell. As soon as he did, Hermione gasped and her body stiffened.

"Crap….I was afraid of this. Should I pull out?"

"No…..just give me a moment." It wasn't really pain she was feeling; more a sensation of being overly full, of being stretched. Hermione concentrated on relaxing her muscles to help her body accommodate the intrusion. A few moments passed before she whispered, "I…..I think I'm ready now."

Draco had been holding his breath, hoping she would be okay, hoping he hadn't ruined the experience for her. When she gave him the go ahead, he sighed in relief and began a rhythmic rocking, making sure his strokes were slow and deep.

He felt it when she began to enjoy him. He felt it when her lush body began to writhe under his, turning him on so much, he forgot to go slow and instinctively sped up, his lips caressing her ear, telling her how good she felt. And when her timid mewls turned into loud moanings of his name, Draco reached his limit. "Hermione…...I …...I can't …."

Right before he came, he felt her walls begin to flutter around him. She cried out, an inarticulate sound of pleasure leaving her lips.

_Oh, thank Merlin._

Draco gratefully let go, thinking as he did he'd found a new life goal; replacing every torment he'd ever given Hermione with offerings of ecstacy to take their place.

When he was through, he moved to the side, holding her sated body close to his. He was knackered and his arms felt like lead; it had been all he could do to keep himself from collapsing on her.

_Maybe next time, she'd like to be on top._

He'd never realized before how strenuous lovemaking was. His past encounters had never been anything more than quick gratifications, but this….this had blown all of his other experiences out of the water. It hadn't been a taking, but a giving. For both of them. It made Draco realize Hermione's feelings for him were as real as his were for her. It was an astonishing thought…...he was such a faulty conglomeration of blood, bone and magic…..but he knew it was true; he'd felt it with his body and soul.

The lioness loved her broken little snake.

* * *

Draco was finally roused from his memories when he felt his witch lazily stretch, signalling she was awake.

Turning over, she gave him a sleepy smile. "Hey."

He smiled back, a gentle, open smile reserved just for her. "Morning, love."

Giving her nose a scratch, she asked, "What time is it?"

Draco glanced at the clock. "Nine-thirty."

"Oh, blast. Really? I have to be at Harry's by 10:30."

He tried not to show his disappointment. "Oh...well, would you like a cup of tea before you go? Toast?"

Hermione was already getting out of the bed. "Tea would be lovely. Do you mind if I take a quick shower while you make it?"

"Not at all."  _Damn, there goes this morning's fun._

"Is anything wrong?" She knew the tone of Draco's voice; she heard it when it changed.

He sighed; he loved his girlfriend's intelligence, but nothing got past her notice. "Just sorry we won't have time for another round."

Hermione grinned impishly. "Well, let's not abandon the idea. Can I get a rain check for this evening?"

"A rain….what?"

She shook her head. "Never mind. Can I come over this evening? Maybe stay the night?" she asked shyly.

Draco playfully tugged her back onto the bed. "I don't want you staying anywhere else. From now on, consider this  _our_  home, Granger."

She tucked her head under his chin as she held him close. Her smile threatened to overtake her entire face. "Got it. Our home, it is."

* * *

He had just made himself a ham sandwich and had taken his first bite when Draco heard the pop of apparition coming from his living room. Looking at the clock, it said 12:45.

_Hermione's back already?_

He hobbled out of the kitchen to find his mother standing by the window, looking out toward the lake. Draco quickly swallowed and asked, "Mother? What's wrong?"

It was the first time she'd come to the cottage since he'd moved out of the manor.

She turned around and gave him an enigmatic stare. "May I sit?"

Draco gestured at the sofa. Walking to it, Narcissa gracefully lowered her body and smoothed her robes. Once her son was sitting on the other end, she wasted no time getting to the point of her call. "Your father told me about his visit yesterday."

"Oh, did he," he responded mockingly. "Did he happen to mention that he barged into my bathroom with not even a by your leave?"

"He told me what he saw. He told me you and Miss Granger were in the shower together. That he'd found you in a compromising position. Then he told me you banished him."

Draco smirked, totally unrepentant. "Did Father enjoy his walk home?"

His mother huffed, exasperated. "I cannot pretend to understand your behavior these days. I know I didn't raise you to be so disrespectful."

"Did you give Father this same dressing down? Because the way he looked and spoke to my witch was despicable."

"DRACO, WE ARE NOT DISCUSSING YOUR FATHER!"

Draco stared in wonder. It was the first time his mother had ever shouted at him.

"Do you think I don't know what he is? Or what he's done?"

Truthfully, Draco didn't. He thought his mother preferred being ignorant.

"But I didn't come here to talk about his behavior. I came to to talk about yours and the way you're treating Miss Granger."

"Mother, calm yourself. Hermione and I are a modern couple. We don't hold to the old ways of...…"

"I am not speaking of your…..romantic activities. I know your purity in that regard was lost some time ago."

Draco cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Then what are you…."

"I'm talking about you taking advantage of the life debt that girl owes you!"

Draco's jaw dropped. "You know about that?"

"Just because it's escaped your father's notice doesn't mean it's escaped mine. You're using her, Draco. It isn't right."

"How am I using her?"

He watched as his mother's eyes actually filled with tears.

_Wait…...she's worried about Hermione?_

"The magic will compel her to give you whatever you need. I know you're lonely here, Son. But to take advantage of Miss Granger just so she can warm your bed is an abuse of a magical bond."

Draco didn't like where this conversation was heading. "That...that's not true. I'm not using her, Mother. Contrary to what Father said, she's not some plaything to me." He stared into his mother's face, willing her to understand. "I love her. I intend to marry her, if she'll have me."

Narcissa's tears spilled over at that declaration. "Oh, my poor Son. I was afraid this would happen."

"What? That I wouldn't marry a pureblood?"

She shook her head as she wiped her tears from her cheeks. "No. I no longer believe any of that. It almost cost me my family."

Draco was stymied. Then what was his mother talking about? She wasn't making any sense.

"I'm not understanding, Mum. Just spit it out."

Narcissa s face crumpled with sorrow as she gently placed her warm hand over Draco's cold one. "I didn't want to be the one who would have to say it. But think, darling. Why would a member of the Light seek you out? Because of her part in the war, the entire wizarding world is now hers for the taking. She could literally have anyone she wanted."

Draco nodded. That was true. Hermione could have her pick. But for some strange reason, she'd chosen  _him_.

"I know , Mother. But she wants  _me_. She loves me."

"Forgive me, but I must speak bluntly. No witch of her caliber would willingly seek out a….disadvantaged wizard with whom to spend her life. Especially one with a dark mark. It's not logical, dear. Surely, you must have already questioned it in your mind. It has to be the life debt making her behave this way. You need to release her from it, Son. Not doing so would constitute supreme selfishness on your part."

Narcissa rose from her place on the sofa. She'd said enough. She hated to break her son's heart, but goodness knows, nothing was helped by keeping one's head in the sand.

She ought to know.

Draco needed to know the truth. He was far more honorable than his father and would do the right thing. She took one last look at his face, now a deathly pale color.

"If you truly love Miss Granger, you'll set her free from the debt she owes you."

* * *

 **A/N** : Shut up, Narcissa! SHUT UP!

One more chapter left. And maybe a short epilogue.


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as his mother left, Draco collapsed against couch. Try as he might, he could not stop the crashing waves of despair that were hitting him with tidal force.

He was going to lose Hermione. He knew it.

He would have to tell her the truth and release her from the bond. The doing of it would be achingly simple; all it would take would be for him to speak the words. That was the beauty of ancient power; no complex wand-waving or lengthy incantations were needed with the deepest and oldest of majicks. Declarations had behind them the creative force of the universe. He would call forth her freedom and the words themselves would stop the forces from swinging like a pendulum. The debt would be erased. The compulsion to offer her life, to give him what he needed would be gone.

As would she.

 _I should have told her about the life debt as soon as I'd heard the nurses speak of it,_ he chided himself. " _What stopped me?"_

He knew what had. He'd been hungry for the attention and concern she'd given him. Draco had relished every stroke of her hand, every fluff of his pillow, even those crazy muggle inventions had been welcome because they'd come from her.

 _Insufferable selfish prick_ , his inner voice berated in a voice that sounded a lot like Severus Snape.  _Thinking only of yourself._

Draco wasn't about to argue. He'd always been spoiled. He'd been raised to believe Malfoys deserved the best, and that's what Hermione was. What she'd always been. The  _best_  friend of Potter, the  _best_  student at Hogwarts, the  _best_  date at the Yule ball, the  _best_  at showing compassion….

…..the  _best_  witch in the world.

She'd been a drink of clean, cool water to his scorched and parched life and he'd greedily swallowed every drop.

Against his will, tears came; hot ones wetting his cheeks while guilt and desire battled within to see which was strongest.

_You used her._

_I love her._

_Irrelevant. When she finds out, she'll despise you._

Would she? Would the soft glow in her eyes turn hard and cold when she discovered the secret he'd been keeping?

He stewed and fretted until he couldn't stand it anymore.

Letting out a scream of pure frustration, he viciously kicked his walker, watching it crash into the coffee table. Not satisfied with that level of destruction, Draco grabbed his wand and blasted the table into splinters.

He couldn't bear to imagine life without Hermione, going through day after miserable day of not seeing her sweet face, her expressive eyes, not hearing her soft voice reading to him or hearing the bell-like music of her laughter during their witty banterings. Despite his injury, the past summer had been the best in his life.  _She_  had made it so. Hearing her play the piano…..he'd gotten a beautiful baby grand for the cottage shortly after moving in, just so he could watch her play. She even tried to teach him. He recalled the patient way she placed his trembling fingers on the keyboard, teaching him various chords and their progressions. He remembered the thrilled look of triumph on her face when he'd managed to play a succession of arpeggios, running his untrained fingers up and down the keyboard. It had been one of his good days. She'd clapped delightedly and given him his first of many hugs. Then yesterday…..their affections culminating into passionate kisses, their touches becoming more daring until they both burned, reaching a crescendo of total union.…..

A broken moan left him. God, it hurt.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ his inner voice taunted.

 _Shut up!_ he answered back.

He didn't need his conscience accusing him; he knew he'd screwed up. He'd taken Hermione's innocence under false pretenses. Sure, he'd asked her if she was certain she wanted him, but what else could she have said under the compulsion of the life debt? She hadn't had a choice. It had been little better than magical rape.

He'd stolen the purity meant for another.

 _Thief,_ his conscience hissed _._

Truth was, Draco didn't think anyone was good enough for his witch. He wasn't; the Weasel certainly wasn't. Draco cringed at the idea of that useless prat laying a hand on Hermione. It made him want to vomit to imagine it. No, the ginger dunce didn't deserve her any more than he did. Still, it didn't matter. Draco didn't want anyone else to have her.  _He_  wanted her; needed her like air.

He'd fallen helpless to her enchantments, but as with all true magic, it'd come at a price. That was the burden of being magical. There was always a cost involved. He'd taken something innocent for himself. Just like the Dark Lord had done with the blood of the unicorns. He'd been punished for it, and now, so would Draco.

Without Hermione beside him, he would be condemned to live a cursed, half life.

He groaned. He literally felt like he couldn't breathe.

And wondered if he still wanted to.

* * *

Hermione knew something was wrong as soon as she apparated back to the cottage. The front door was hanging open; peering inside, she could see Draco's walker turned over on top of the splintered remains of what had been his coffee/cocktail table.

"Draco?" she called out fearfully. The only noise she heard was a faint drip, drip, drip.

"Oh my God," she whispered, suddenly terrified, her imagination painting horrible images in her mind. Grabbing her wand tightly, she entered the cottage, her senses on high alert.

"Lumos," she said as she looked around for any possible intruder. Draco had been a death eater; he'd made enemies. It was possible that someone had come to exact vengeance.

 _But how would they have gotten through the wards?_ Not to mention, why would they target Draco when a real death eater could be found nearby and magicless?

Lighting the lamps with a flick of her hand, Hermione went through the cottage, but she didn't find anything else that would suggest a forced entry. She also didn't find Draco. She didn't know what to do or where to go. Then she heard it. A low moan, coming from somewhere behind the cottage. Running out the door, she paused, her eyes wide with fright, trying to see in the dark. Then she heard it again. Another moan, weaker this time. It's was Draco's voice. She turned the corner at the gardening shed, then stopped.

" _Draco_!" she screamed.

Blood was everywhere.

* * *

Healer Robbins sighed, his large frame beginning to ache with weariness. It had been several hours since the young Malfoy lad had been brought in, dead by all appearances.  _Again._

But fate seemed determined to keep the boy alive. Or perhaps it had been Miss Granger, who had had the presence of mind to put Draco under a stasis charm until the healers at St. Mungo's could stabilize him. But it had not been easy.

He'd suffered a deep wound on his arm by his dark mark and it looked like an attempt had also been made on his neck. But whoever did this had botched the cut there. It just missed his jugular. If his attacker had been successful, there would have been nothing they could have done. Thankfully, he was going to make it. As per custom with this kind of case, he'd made the necessary fire call to the head of magical law enforcement to alert him of an apparent attempted homicide; then he'd returned back to check on his patient's vitals.

Taking one last look at Draco, he took off his bloodied healer's robe and exited the room to bump into Harry Potter.

"Mr. Potter?" Healer Robbins took in the apparel of the wizarding world's savior; he was wearing the dark dragonhide uniform of an Auror on duty. "I didn't know you had become an auror."

"Just a temporary one. I'm still in training, but I asked the minister to give me guard duty for Draco. I was there when your call came through."

The healer smiled. He'd heard the story of the two former enemies during Draco's first stay at the hospital. That Harry had asked for this assignment spoke volumes. "The two of you are friends, aren't you?" It was more a statement than a question.

Harry nodded. "Couldn't help it. He saved my best friend's life."

Healer Robbins chuckled, a weak one that revealed how very tired the older man was. "Well, she saved his tonight, so I guess they're even."

* * *

While Harry kept watch outside the room, Hermione and Narcissa kept watch inside. The older witch saw how Hermione's hand trembled when she smoothed Draco's hair from his face. "It…..It was so horrible," she whispered brokenly. "He looked so…..so…" she broke down, crying uncontrollably.

Narcissa immediately wrapped her arms around the distressed witch. "Shh, my dear. Don't think about that. You saved him. That's what matters."

"But what if I hadn't come back when I did? He would have died," she sobbed.

Narcissa continued to hold Hermione, gently rubbing her back in the soothing way mothers had. But inside her mind, her thoughts tumbled chaotically.

_The life debt should have been satisfied by her actions. She should feel relief, not…...not this. Merlin help me, has she loved Draco all along?_

Narcissa was devastated. The things she'd said to her son were what she'd felt she  _had_  to say, not what she'd wanted to say. She had been a victim herself of being under a life debt, was a victim still, and wouldn't wish that life on anyone. She'd only been trying to do what was right. Narcissa recalled her son's face right before she left. Drawn and white, like she had avada'ed his heart. Tears began to slowly trail down her pale cheeks. "My dear," she whispered, "I think I've made a terrible mistake."

* * *

Hermione was roused from her fitful slumber in the hospital chair when she heard Draco moan.. A faint light was showing from the charmed Windows. Daybreak, then. Rubbing the back of her stiff neck, she sat up in her chair and looked over to see him staring blearily at her. Leaning over, she gently took his face in her hands and placed soft kisses on his forehead and nose before brushing her lips against his. "Draco…..I thought I had lost you, love."

"Where am I?" he mumbled.

"St. Mungo's. Do….Do you remember what happened?"

Draco frowned. His brain felt fuzzy. As if those wrackspurts that crazy Lovegood girl was always blathering about had taken up residence in his head. He tried to recall what he'd been doing last when it all came back in a rush. Making love to Hermione…..his mother's visit…..his grief at the thought of losing his witch…... and then… _him_.

Someone familiar had come to call.

" _Father_."

Hermione froze. "What? You….you mean…..oh, my God, Draco. Your  _father_  did this?"

Draco's face distorted into a mask of pain. She could see him trying hard not to fall apart. He looked up at her with tormented eyes, filled with hurt and disbelief that the actions of his father had once again threatened his life.

"He….he was furious with me about yesterday….said we had unfinished business."

Hermione remembered.  _We are not through here, Son._

"He told me what a disappointment I was and demanded I leave you. We…... fought. He became even more enraged. I swear, it was like he'd turned into Bellatrix. He started screaming." Draco saw Hermione's face darken in fury.

"Then he picked up a knife I'd left on the counter. He tried to threaten me with it. When I wouldn't budge…..he went completely mad. It caught me by surprise."

"But what about your wand? Didn't you have it on you?"

Draco shook his head. "I had put it up earlier. I never imagined I would need it for him."

Hermione swallowed hard. "Well, how did he…...I mean, what did he….."

Draco shut his eyes. He could still see his father above him, his features twisted, his eyes glowing maniacally as his long hair hung down, getting in his face. "He dragged me outside…..pinned me down…...I…..I tried to stop him, but he was stronger. Said he would rather our line end than watch me pollute it."

Hermione stared back, shocked and sickened. Then she stood and shouted, "Harry!"

* * *

A few days later, the Daily Prophet's headlines caused quite a stir.

_Date with Dementors: Deranged Dad to Receive Kiss_

The article went on to report on the attempted murder of Draco Malfoy by his father, dastardly death eater, Lucius Malfoy and of the trial that had been conducted with secrecy and speed. Details of the case had been kept quiet, but the verdict had not; justice would finally be served to the unrepentant supporter of You-Know-Who.

Hermione threw down the paper after reading it. "I don't understand why Kingsley is allowing the Prophet to publish this. The trial was a closed one."

The new minister had at least allowed them that. The only spectators had been Narcissa, Hermione and Harry. Draco, still recovering at St. Mungo's at the time, had not attended.

"You know why," said Draco, reclining on the sofa at the cottage. His wounds now fully healed, he'd been allowed to return home on the condition of staying on bed rest until he finished all his blood replenishing potions. He balked at being confined to the bedroom, so Hermione thought the couch was a good compromise. "He was a death eater that got away with it. Just like me. He'll be made an example now."

"You are in no way like your father, love. He tried to hurt people like me." She took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. "You saved my life."

Draco cleared his throat. There was his opening. Better get it over with before he lost his nerve. "About that…..I need to talk to you about something. I ...I should have told you already….but honestly, I kept forgetting about it….and…..well, you know I'm a selfish prat and….."

"For heaven's sake, Draco, you're rambling. Just say it."

He steeled himself. This was it…...the moment he'd been dreading. "You've been under a life debt. But as of this moment, I declare you free."

Hermione stared at him. Then her mouth quirked up in a grin. "I was wondering when you would bring that up. Your mother told me all about it, but like I told her, nothing could be further from the truth."

Draco's jaw dropped. He felt like he'd been confunded.

"Huh?" was his brilliant reply.

Hermione giggled at his look of befuddlement and kissed him on the cheek. "I wasn't the one under a life debt, Draco.  _You_ were. Remember before the battle in the Room of Requirement? The three of us endangered our lives to save you and Goyle from the fiendfyre. I'm guessing that was why afterward, you jumped in front of me to save my life. The life debt you owed drove you to do it."

Draco was gobsmacked. The first thing he blurted out was, "Does that mean I still owe a debt to Harry and the Weasel?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. We acted as one when we returned for you. Besides…...I'm the one who said we couldn't leave you to die."

He thought back to that time, that terrifying moment when he'd given up hope, only to see three figures flying toward him. Then later during the battle….when he knew Hermione was in grave danger….at that moment, he couldn't explain it, he only knew he'd felt…. _compelled_  to save her.

_Merlin._

That explained it; his actions that day finally made sense. He stared at Hermione. She was watching him intently. "So since the time I saved you, we've both been free. You weren't being influenced by the debt to be with me."

She shook her head, her beautiful brown eyes shining with tenderness. "I wasn't being affected by anything other than my own feelings. Our relationship progressed because we both wanted it."

A relief so strong he didn't think he could stand it threatened to overwhelm Draco. Hermione loved him. Wanted him. It hadn't been obligation or magic making her be with him. He pulled her over and settled her on his lap. Then he kissed her. Kissed her with everything he had. All his grief and regret. All his hope, too.

When they came up for air he announced, "You're going to marry me, Witch. You're going to be my wife."

Hermione's breath caught; all at once she squealed so loudly, it made Draco jump and his ears ring. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and laughed, rocking him back and forth in sheer joy.

"I take it you approve the idea," he said, muffled and half smothered by Hermione's hair.

She suddenly paused from her rocking. "Oh blast, I just remembered something." Pulling back a little, she repeated his earlier words back to him. "I declare you free from any debt owed me."

"What was that for?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I figured it couldn't hurt. I saved your life after finding you at the cottage. I didn't want a life debt to start all over again. I needed to be sure you meant it when you proposed, and not just because it was something I wanted you to do. Although I will say that was the bossiest proposal I've ever heard."

Draco's face softened even while a mischievous grin formed. "Heard lots of proposals, have you?" he quipped. Then he became serious. "Something you wanted…" He traced her cheek with his fingertips. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do," she nodded. "I want you more than anything."

"Remember what you're getting…..a crippled wreck of a wizard whose only recommendation is that he loves you with all his heart and soul. I mean it, Hermione. I love you; you know that. But you also know I have bad days. Be sure I'm what you want, because once you say yes, I'm holding you to it."

She laughed, although tears were present, too. "Then yes. A million yeses! I love you, you wonderful man."

The two, both with silly grins on their faces, gazed adoringly at the other; Draco, his hand still touching Hermione's cheek and she with her arms around his neck.

Finally, Hermione said, "Well….don't you think you should kiss me?"

Draco showed he could take direction very well when the occasion called for it. He kissed her until she was breathless, and when Hermione suggested they finish their celebrations in the bedroom, his earlier protests about having to stay in bed were immediately forgotten. He was up and off the sofa with a speed that was astonishing, considering his recent ordeal. Grabbing his walker, he said, "Race you there, Granger."

* * *

Several celebrations later, Hermione and Draco were exhausted, cocooned in each other's arms. It was then when he asked her about the conversation she'd had with his mother.

"She told me she came to see you. Draco, did she explain to you  _why_  she said what she did to you?"

He frowned. "No."

It was something he'd wondered about. His mother's obvious distress and concern about Hermione. When had she started caring about muggleborns?

"Your mother has been under a life debt since her school days at Hogwarts. She told me Bellatrix had wanted your father and his fortune, but he'd spurned her, preferring your mum. Of course, you know how crazy your aunt was….sorry, but she was, Draco…."

"I'm not disputing you, love. I'm beginning to wonder if my whole family's that way."

"It wouldn't be surprising considering all the inbreeding purebloods do."

"Which our marriage will correct, at least with my line..…."

Hermione smiled and gave his chest an Eskimo kiss, snuggling close. "Well, anyway, your mother said your aunt was unhinged even as a child. When Bellatrix found out Lucius didn't want her, she became enraged, so much so, she cast a dismemberment curse at your mother at a dinner party between the two families. Your father deflected it, but was badly wounded in the process."

Draco wondered if that was why his father had always carried a cane. He'd thought it was a tactic to appear more intimidating, but perhaps Lucius had needed it more than he'd let on.

"Your mother's parents begged the Malfoys not to press charges. They agreed, on one condition….that the marriage contract be modified to make it between Lucius and Narcissa, which pleased your father greatly. The Blacks couldn't refuse. Because of the life debt she now owed, your mother couldn't object, even though she'd been dating someone else. She married your father and was forced to give in to his desires ever since. The only bright spot was when you were born.

Draco stayed quiet during Hermione's explanation, hugging her more tightly to himself when she went into the more unsavory bits of his mother's enslavement.

"Why…..that  _bastard….."_ he seethed, hearing the things his mother had suffered.

Hermione privately agreed, but only said, "That's why your mother couldn't protect you like she wanted. Keeping you safe from Voldemort went against your father's wishes. He wanted you to follow in his footsteps."

 _And when I no longer did, he wanted me dead._ Draco was quiet for a moment; then he asked, "Did she think I would do that to  _you_? Force you into things you didn't want?"

Hermione gave him a small, sad smile. "Each of us has light and dark within us. I'm sure your father didn't start out as evil. But he'd been given too much power over another and as the saying goes, power corrupts. I think your mother was afraid it was a possibility."

Draco huffed, offended at the idea, but deep down, he sort of understood.

"Anyhow, that doesn't apply to us. I know what I've got."

"Oh? And what is that, Granger?"

"The love I've always wanted."

Draco rolled his eyes but was secretly pleased. "You've always wanted someone with a disability?"

"Well, unless I want to marry a martian or some other kind of extraterrestrial, I'm sort of stuck with the options here." She stroked his bangs away from his face. "We're  _all_  disabled, Draco. We're all broken, somehow or another. Perfection doesn't exist. So, I think the trick is to find someone who's whole in the places we're not."

He didn't comment, merely rested his cheek against her hair. They stayed that way for a few minutes; Hermione began to get sleepy. Draco finally broke the silence.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's marry soon," he said. "Unless you see a point in waiting?"

She wiggled closer and planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw. "When were you thinking?"

He grinned devilishly. "Samhain."

"Draco! That's barely a month away."

"It's five weeks away. I've seen Mother plan large galas in less time. But my witch isn't the bridezilla type, so I'm sure Mother could handle whatever we asked her to do.

"You know about bridezillas?"

"How quickly you forget. Remember that show you made me watch? You're not wanting something like that, are you?""

Hermione shuddered. A big, fancy wedding was most definitely  _not_  what she wanted.

Draco softly began to press kisses on her face before he moved down to her neck.

 _Coercion, that's what this is. Sneaky little snake,_  she thought even while tilting her head to give him better access.

"Think, love. Small, intimate wedding. Family and friends. Lots of love and laughter. No beetle reporters or supremacist society snobs."

Hermione laughed. Turning her head, she saw that mischievous smirk she loved so much on his face.

"Now how can you say no to that? Please?"

She sighed. It was hard to refuse him when he was being so adorable. Besides, they were basically living as man and wife as it was.

Was there really a reason to wait?

* * *

A/N: I've had this written for awhile, but I kept fussing with it until I was ready to avada myself. LOL I hope it doesn't disappoint.


	6. Epilogue

 

Despite Draco's enthusiasm, his marriage to Hermione was delayed, mainly due to Healer Robbins strongly advising the couple to wait. Draco's health, already compromised by the curse, needed additional time to fully recover from the trauma his father had inflicted upon it.

_His father._

Lucius was in Azkaban, awaiting his sentence. The ministry was doing just as Draco predicted; they were going to make his father an example. Draco hated the thought of a big production; hated the thought that the ministry would sensationalize the taking of a man's soul. Mostly, he hated the fact that he still cared. He knew Lucius didn't deserve his regard, but he couldn't help it. A son's devotion to a father ran deep. Yet, in a strange, sick way, he felt relieved. The perpetual shadow he'd been born under would finally be gone. Still, for his own peace of mind, he decided to go see Lucius one last time. He didn't know why. Maybe he needed closure.

"Oh, Hon….are you sure? You don't have to do this," Hermione said, her eyes filled with concern when he told her of his plans.

"Yes, I do. He owes me that." He turned to Harry, sitting at their table. "You'll arrange it for me?"

Harry nodded. "I'll do more than that; I'll go with you, too."

Draco gave his former enemy a quick nod. "Thanks, Mate. Mind you, I….I don't know what he might say….."

"Does it matter? That's all he can do."

"Sorry?"

"Talk, I mean," Harry explained. "Words are the only weapon he has left."

Hermione bit her lip, not comforted by Harry's statement. Words were powerful. They could lift the spirits or cut a soul to ribbons. She looked worriedly at her fiancé; Draco would be incredibly vulnerable.

The day before he was to go to Azkaban, Draco went to see his mother. She, like Hermione, worried it might do more harm than good.

"What's to be gained by it?" she questioned. "Better to just let him go."

Draco shook his head stubbornly. "No….that's too easy. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me why I was never good enough. Why his beliefs meant more to him than his own son."

Narcissa sighed, rubbing a finger against her temple. "Your father…..it's complicated, the way he reasoned things…..but I know he loved you once, darling," she said softly. "He loved me, too…..once."

Draco huffed out a breath, frustrated. "Then what happened? What changed him? And don't say the Dark Lord. I'm tired of that excuse."

Narcissa paused. "Your father didn't change. You did. That's what happened. And it terrified him."

Draco's face twisted into a mocking sneer. "I see. A powerful wizard was so scared of his son, he decided to kill him. Yes, that makes perfect sense."

Narcissa's cheeks burned red. A lifetime of defending her husband was a hard habit to break. She watched as Draco struggled to get up from her plush sofa; when he was finally able to stand, he grabbed his walker for balance.

"Well, if that's the way he wants it, then so be it. Maybe he'll be bloody well trembling once I'm done with him tomorrow."

Narcissa caught Draco's arm. "Vengeance isn't the answer, Son."

He shook off her hand. "I don't want vengeance; I want a confession. He needs to acknowledge his wrongs while he still has the chance," he uttered before disapparating, walker and all.

The next day, Draco and Harry returned early from their visit to the prison. Hermione and Narcissa were both waiting at the cottage when they walked in. Both witches looked at each other, apprehension in their faces. One look at Draco told them it had not gone well.

"Love?" Hermione said hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

Draco didn't respond.

Narcissa gazed uneasily at her son, then turned to the boy who lived. "Mr. Potter…...did my husband…"

Harry shook his head, clearly troubled. "He didn't do anything, Mrs. Malfoy." His eyes darted worriedly at Draco.

"Then what…." she began to ask before Draco interrupted her.

"He didn't say anything because he  _couldn't_!" he spit out, angry tears shining in his eyes. "They've already done it, Mum. He's…..he's gone."

Narcissa's face lost the little color it had.

"Good God….Harry, Mr. Malfoy's been kissed?"

He turned around and nodded at Hermione. "Yeah. Turns out they did it right after he was taken to Azkaban.

"But….but the papers said they were going to make it a big event.  _The final death eater to be kissed_ ," Narcissa argued, quoting the headlines.

"It was a ploy by the Wizengamot to satisfy the public. They were going to release photos of the kiss as it happened…...I think they were trying to repair their reputation, actually. But Kingsley wasn't in favor of the courts using a man's execution as a publicity stunt to better their image. So this was his solution. He figured no one would ever know the difference."

"Except for me," Narcissa murmured to herself.

"Ma'am?" Harry asked.

She looked guiltily at her son. "I knew I'd felt better since his arrest. I thought it was because of the distance separating us or because the wards around the prison were keeping his magic from reaching me. But now…...I suppose it was because I'd been freed from the life debt."

Harry looked at Hermione, confusion in his eyes, but she shook her head. She would explain it all to him later. She needed to take care of Draco now.

She looked at her fiancé. Draco looked lost, torn between anger and heartbreak. Communicating with Harry in the silent way they'd developed during the war, she got him to escort Narcissa home. Once they were gone, she led Draco to their bathroom and began to fill the tub. She added aromatic salts to the warm water and wandlessly cast a spell that would make the waters churn to better massage his tight muscles. She turned and undressed Draco and helped him in the tub. Discarding her garments, she followed after, resting between his legs with her back to his chest.

Then she waited.

Draco said nothing at first, but soon his hands crept around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. A couple of moments later, Hermione heard a sniff, then a choked cry. Draco buried his face in her abundant hair and began to sob, his body shaking from the onslaught. Hermione's tender heart broke at the sound of it. The hurt little boy inside Draco could no longer be suppressed; he needed to mourn for his father, for his one-time idol. He needed to grieve for the loss of his innocence. His hero had turned out to be his tormentor, and if Hermione had not found him in time, his killer. She wisely said nothing, but continued to comfort as she could. She caressed his arms; she massaged his thighs; lifting his hands to her face, she left kisses on both his palms. When she felt his tears subsiding, she turned in his arms and began to tenderly wash him. As before in the shower, she made her moves slow and unhurried, only this time she had no hesitancy with touching any part of his body. He was familiar now; every part of him beloved. Draco closed his eyes, red-rimmed from his emotional outburst, and let the love of his life minister to him. Every brush of her hands was deeply intimate, though not necessarily sexual. It went deeper than that. Hermione was releasing her love through the magic of touch. It was an act of healing. Draco's soul was being cleansed of every hurt, every disappointment…...every pain he'd ever felt in connection with his father. It was if the heavy weight of darkness was being washed off, layer by layer. After she finished, he took her in his arms and kissed her, desperate need for his other half consuming him. Hermione must have felt the same way, for with a twirl of her wrist, her magic carried them to their bed. There, Draco gave himself to her as if it was the first time they'd ever made love. He'd never felt so exposed, so raw before; yet he'd also never felt so…... _clean_. Hermione immediately felt the difference.

"I love you," he whispered repeatedly as he worshipped every inch of her body.

 _I know_  was her last coherent thought for a while.

* * *

They married on the American holiday of Thanksgiving. Draco felt it quite appropriate; indeed, he felt American himself that day, for he knew he had much to be thankful for. Healer Robbins had told him as much. He recalled their conversation when the older wizard had advised them to wait.

"That pretty little witch of yours isn't going anywhere, if that's what you're worried about. Her feelings are very evident."

The comment mollified Draco. He knew Healer Robbins had spoken the truth. He knew for a fact Hermione loved him. He felt it everyday; her quiet strength buoying him when doubts assailed, when his body betrayed him, when fears told him her feelings couldn't last. She proved his thoughts were lies and before long, they began to lose their power over the former Slytherin.

They chose to be married at midday, the time when light reigns supreme, in front of the Rowan tree by the lake. The magicks of the tree, planted so many years ago by Draco's grandmother, played a great part in their ceremony. They had opted for a magical bonding, complete with marriage marks in lieu of rings. They did not stand for their wedding; Draco had not wanted his walker to have any place in their ceremony. Instead, they sat facing each other on a flying carpet, the only one in existence in Britain, a gift to Kingsley from the former wizarding ambassador of Egypt. Levitating high enough so that all in attendance could see them, they spoke their vows of love and faithfulness. When it came time to receive their mark, their magic tapped into the deeper, primal magic of the nearby tree, it's power swirling around them in a cloud of autumn leaves while causing the lake to momentarily ripple as if the wake of a boat had come ashore. Then they felt a sharp piercing in the area around their heart. Next, a heavy pull, not pleasant but not painful, moved slowly from their heart down their left arm. They watched in amazement as colorful swirls and patterns emerged on their skin. Draco's dark mark shrank from the vibrant colors as if in fright, and began to recede; slowly at first, until finally it vanished. His eyes grew heavy with unshed tears. He knew what it meant. Darkness could no longer live in him, due to his eternal commitment to the witch who would forever after be his wife. Finally, they felt a slight sting on their ring finger and saw that one last swirl, this one golden, encircled where a wedding band would have gone.

"Love, do you recognize our rune?" Draco asked, barely breathing at the wonder of the redemptive magic etched on his skin.

Hermione nodded, stunned.

Their marriage mark was the symbol for rebirth.

* * *

Their first year of marriage found Draco and Hermione leading an idyllic existence. Together they worked on potions to help Draco function more normally. Some of them were so effective, they sent them to Healer Robbins for him to try on other patients. He had such encouraging results, St Mungo's spell damage department began to regularly send orders for the potions. In their spare time, they studied at home for their Newts, and it was a surprise to no one when they both passed with O's.

Then in June, right before his birthday, Draco came down with what they had thought was a summer cold, but it quickly turned into pneumonia; he soon developed sepsis. There was a week Hermione could never talk about afterward. Healers said he was beyond their skill. They told her to prepare for the inevitable. But somehow, Draco rallied. His recovery astonished everyone; later, after the danger had passed, Harry jokingly told him he was more cat than snake, because he apparently had nine lives.

"Well, only six more now," Harry teased, but he was almost as relieved as Hermione that Draco had once again defeated the odds.

His last brush with death had been a turning point for his wife. Hermione couldn't go through almost losing him again. She began to take him to see muggle doctors. He thought she was going overboard, but she wouldn't budge. "Healers are fine, Draco. But they don't have the technological advantages doctors have."

It turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Draco. They found an excellent internist who helped them form a network of physicians dedicated to his care, including an infectious diseases expert, an orthopedic specialist and a physical therapist, who created a regiment for Draco that improved his strength and flexibility. Different medications ceased the tremors and kept the fevers from returning. By the time Hermione gave birth to their first child two years later, Draco was walking with only an occasional need for an aid. The walker had been permanently retired. When Scorpius was three years old, Draco could carry him easily.

"Papa…..whys you gots a stick?" Scorpius asked one evening when Draco was tired and needed his cane after an especially grueling workout earlier that day with his therapist.

Draco patted the curly blonde head. "You mean, when I walk?"

"Uh-huh. Mummy donts have a stick and Gam-ma neither."

"Come here, Son." Draco lifted the tot to his lap. Scorpius looked up expectantly at his father. He was unusually striking, blessed with the hair coloring of his father while having the rosy complexion of his mother. Even at his young age, he got quite the attention whenever they took him to Diagon Alley.

"Long ago, your Papa got hexed by a nasty old curse, and it made me very sick. But I'm better now."

Scorpius reacted in the typical way of a child; he let out a soft gasp of sympathy, then immediately tried to relate in the only way he could.

"Jamie hitted me wonced, and it hurted me bad, but I hitted hims back, and then I felts better."

Draco choked down a laugh. "Don't let your mother or Uncle Harry hear about you hitting Jamie, or into the time out corner you'll go," he said, although Draco was secretly tickled that the son of Harry Potter got his comeuppance for once. The mischief that child got into could put the Weasley twins to shame.

"What are you and Scorpius talking about?" Hermione's voice trailed from the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on a cake she'd baked for Narcissa's birthday.

Draco put his finger to his lip. Scorpius nodded, grinning conspiratorially. "Nothing, love. We're just swapping stories, is all."

"Draco, you better not be telling our son any of those stories about you and Theo. Your Mum told me all about your shenanigans; you were horrid little devils. My baby is an angel, I don't want you to be putting any ideas into his head."

Draco winked at Scorpius. He giggled and placed his chubby fingers around his neck. "Yous not haw-wid," he murmured, placing a sweet wet kiss on Draco's cheek. "I wuv my Papa."

Draco hugged him back. "I love you, my Son."

And unlike his own father, it would always be true.

* * *

 **A/N** : This chapter almost wasn't. I've never experienced such a bad case of writer's block before. I wrote about 15 variations of the epilogue and hated them all. But the wonderfully talented  **daswhoiam**  made me a beautiful moodboard that gave new life to my worn out brain, so here we are. Finally! LOL I'm dedicating this chapter to her. I hope you like it, Sissy.

 **Final note:**  my husband was the inspiration for this story. The pain, the struggling, the despair, the frustration, the always being cold, the learning new ways to do things, the humor…...the love. He fights everyday to overcome his disabilities and failing health. In spite of him thinking he's less of a man than he was before, I've never admired him more. Come what may, he is my hero.

And he always will be.


End file.
